The Story of a Mask
by El Greeno
Summary: The RED Scout unmasks the BLU Spy. Simple, or so the Scout thought. Little did he know he was about to uncover something much bigger— that the BLU team might not be the real enemy in this battle. RED Scout x BLU Spy. Other pairings as well.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone! This is the first chapter of the new and improved 'Story of a Mask.' New readers I hope you like the story and old readers I hope you like this more than the old story! So enjoy!

…

"Francis, What's under ya mask?"

The Spy's eyes rose from the newspaper he'd been reading, quickly glancing at the boy in front of him before sighing. "Zhat is non' of your business, Avery." The Frenchman mumbled.

Pursing his lips, the Scout tapped his fingers against the table. Minutes pass with neither saying anything. The Scout's eyes roamed the room of which they sat; the kitchen- which usually was bustling with activity at this time in the morning- was surprisingly quiet. The Scout could only presume the team were taking full advantage of their day off; not even the Heavy woke as the aroma of pancakes drifted from the kitchen.

Their Medic wasn't even awake; a man who prided himself in his punctuality, the Scout had a hard time believing he was still asleep. Though, he wasn't going to burst into the man's room to check. He'd learnt that the hard way.

Lets just say- he will _never_ look at the Sniper and Medic the same way ever again.

Not to say he was particularly close with them. No, he wasn't close with anyone on his team. Well, beside the Spy and Pyro.

When he'd first joined the RED team, nobody would go near him, they avoided him like the plague. To them, he was just another Scout. Somebody to distract the other team whilst everyone else did the hard work. Little did any of them expect him to be able to sneak into the BLU base, take the Intel and sneak back out with absolutely no wounds whatsoever.

No normal Scout would have done it. No normal Scout _could_ have done it, but that's were Avery differed. He wasn't a normal Scout, unlike them; he was a tactical thinker.

Whilst his BLU counterpart would run into the RED base, run back out and immediately cry for the Engineer to build him a dispenser. Avery could put two and two together and managed to take the Intel without alerting the BLU team or their sentry guns.

It's safe to say his team was impressed.

In fact, that evening was the first time his team even acknowledged his existence. They congratulated him, asked him how he did it. All the usual things; Avery didn't know how to respond to the attention, he'd pretty much been ignored since he'd started and hadn't had so much as a full conversation with _any_ of his team.

So Avery did the only thing he could think of.

He excused himself and went off to his room.

He didn't expect anyone to come knocking on his door and he _really _didn't expect their Pyro to be standing there. Without his mask on and in his hands two plates of stew.

It was the start of a good- albeit strange- friendship.

He and the Spy never really talked that much either, but like the Pyro, they didn't need to. The Scout saw him as a father figure and admired the respect the Spy commanded. Every time he entered a room, everyone took notice. He could control the team better than anyone else- though the Pyro was a close second. The Scout admired both men more than anything.

Which didn't help the Scout's burning curiosity.

"So... What _is_ unda ya mask?" He repeated.

A frown spread across the Frenchman's face. "I told you. Zhat is non' of your business."

The Scout lowered his head to rest it on the table. "Can't ya just tell me?" He pleaded half-heartedly.

Sighing, Francis lowered his paper. He raised his hand and placed on the boys head; gently ruffling his hair- a gesture the Scout had become accustomed to. "Avery. Why do you care what is under my mask?"

"I dunno." The Scout mumbled into the table.

A smile tugged at the corners of the Frenchman's mouth. "Mon petit lapin... What ever will I do with you?"

The Scout didn't reply, instead opting to stare at the table.

Another sigh left the Spy's lips. "Tell you what." He paused. "If you stop sulking, I'll show you what is under my mask."

The Scout sat bolt upright, staring in disbelief at the Frenchman. "Really?"

Francis reached for his jacket pocket and pulled out his cigarette case, opening it and picking one out. "When ze need arises, of course." Francis added; lifting the cigarette to his lips.

The Scout's body sagged; his eyebrows furrowed together. "Dat's like sayin' ya never gonna show me." He moaned, his head fell and hit the table again.

"Avery, sit up." The Spy ordered, shaking the others shoulder.

Begrudgingly; the Scout sat up, a frown plastered on his face. "I said I would show you my face, you just 'ave to wait awhile." The Spy reassured.

The Scout thought for a moment. "Yeah, well I don't feel like waitin'." He muttered before standing. The Spy raised an eyebrow as he watched the boy leave the room.

"And zhere I thought you 'ad ze patience of a saint." He called after him.

The Scout stopped at the doorway, looking back to the table where the Frenchman sat. "I do 'ave the patience of a saint." He stated. "But even saints can lose dere patience."

"So, what are you going to do zhen?" He asked.

Avery looked at his feet. What could he do? He couldn't just run up to Francis and pull off his balaclava. For starters that would piss the Frenchman off to eternity. No, he'd need to find an easier target. Somebody who wouldn't suspect a sneak attack.

And that's when it hit him.

"Dat's none of ya business." He said, mimicking the Frenchman's accent.

Francis smiled. "Touché Avery."

With a nod, the Scout left the room, leaving the Frenchman alone with his thoughts. He reached for his paper, opening it on the page he'd been on.

...

Well I hoped you like the prologue of the story! :3

If you spot any mistakes please tell me and I'll correct them. :)

*EDIT* - I have changed a few lines, and taken out the bit at the end. Sorry for the inconvenience. :3 xx


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2! I hope you like it. :)

…

Avery stood quietly in the hallway of the BLU base; his body pressed tightly against the wall. Each breathe he took came out hushed, the small movements of his chest the only clue he was even alive. He was statue; unwavering as the minutes passed. He closed his eyes, listening intently. Gentle beeps came from the machines in the next room, each one louder than the next as he began to focus. Every tiny noise attacked his eardrums, but finally- Avery heard him.

It was a gentle cough, quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary, but to Avery- it told him everything. He opened his eyes; peering around the corner to look into the room. Just as he thought, the Spy stood staring out of the window, his back facing Avery. The Frenchman appeared to be in his own world, he hardly moved or made any noise. Which, to the Scouts annoyance, made his job a lot trickier.

Avery had always been cautious, he knew the risks of this and he understood them damn well. Time was ticking away and he had to make a decision.

The Scout stared at the back of the Spy's head; the bottom of his balaclava poking out slightly from his shirt collar. The Bostonians eyes quickly glanced around his surrounding, before he took a deep breath.

He ran forward. Everything slowing as the adrenaline pumped around his body. The beeps of the machines slowed, and everything seemed to stand still. Only when the Scout's fingers wrapped around the frayed edges of the balaclava did time jolt back into place.

The mask slid fluidly off the Spy's face, tufts of short red hair poked up. The BLU Spy seemed not to notice.

Well, Avery hoped he hadn't noticed.

The Spy moved quick. His body spun, his arm outstretched and a knife held tightly in his hand.

Avery's body reacted before his mind; flinging himself away from the impending jab, but the Spy was quicker then he looked. Following the RED and slicing his hand through the air.

Avery barely moved in time as he felt the knife glide across his stomach. He quickly looked down and soon regretted it. The Spy brought his hand swiftly up and connected it with the Bostonians jaw.

The hit was hard. Harder than the Scout had expected. The room spun around him as he fumbled backward, his eyes attempting in vain to focus on _anything_. He didn't even realise when his back bumped into the wall behind him.

The Scout groaned as he rubbed his jaw. His eyes lifting to stare at the blue blob wobbling in front of him. From what he could make out, the Spy looked pissed. Very pissed.

Before Avery could even think of a escape plan, slender fingers wrapped harshly around his neck along with a cool, metal object pressed uncomfortably close to his jugular.

Only then did the Scouts eyes focus enough to see the man in front of him. The man's hair was short, a dark shade of auburn; small tufts of which poked up haphazardly. His skin looked smooth, though aged. The man had obviously led a tough life if the circles beneath his eyes were anything to go by. The Scout dared to look the man directly in the eye. He was met with a harsh green, in any other situation the Scout would have found... _breathtaking_.

That thought soon fled his mind as he dared to explore more of the man's face.

He was really blind sometimes.

Avery had failed to notice the most predominate feature on the man's face. A scar. The likes of which the Scout wished he could forget. It ran from the Frenchman's hairline down to his chin. Keeping strictly to the side of his face; creating a crescent shape.

Now, The Scout had seen his fair share of scars. Hell, he had a few of his own. But never, in all his life had he seen one looking so _painful_.

"Oh sweet Jesus..." The Scout muttered. His eyes fixed on the scar. It was obvious just from looking at it that it wasn't done by accident. No, it was done by somebody who had taken the time to make sure the Spy felt the pain.

Avery's mind was racing. Questions ran though his head as he stood staring at the man. _Who would have done this? why had they done it? am I going to die now?_

The last one lingered in Avery's mind the most.

Normally, the Scout wasn't one to regret his decisions. He'd punch himself later for them but never had he truly_ regretted_ them. But at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back in time, hit his past self in the head and tell him to run the fuck away and never look back.

Sadly he knew he'd have to live with this mistake, or die regretting it as the case may be.

"Now I am going to ask you nicely..." The Spy began. Leaning forward and brushing his lips faintly across the Scouts ear. "Why in ze Hell, did you take off my mask?"

Avery gulped feeling the knife dig into his throat and the breath against his ear."Um..." He stammered.

"'Um'?" The man paused, a thoughtful look overcame his face. "You come into my base. Stand in ze hallway for an hour. Only to say 'um'?"

Avery eyes widened. "'Ow did ya know I was in de hallway?"

The Spy pulled back from the Scout to look him directly in the eye. "You are talking to a Spy you moron." He dead panned. "I could _hear_ you, though I must admit, you were admirably quiet for a Scout."

_Well that was a kick in the nuts_ the Scout thought. He'd had always prided himself on his stealth only to have the Spy to say otherwise.

But then again what had he expected? An accolade? For the Spy to crown him for not running into the room swinging his bat widely. No. The Scout knew better than that.

This wasn't about pride.

Feeling more deflated then he let on, the Scout responded with a smirk. "Well thanks for the compliment spook. I do try my hardest." The words felt like acid on his tongue. He knew he shouldn't egg him on, but some small sliver of the Scout thought this was a good idea and he didn't exactly have an arsenal of options to pick from.

"Well, well. Look who grew a pair." The Spy flashed a smile before it quickly disintegrated. "Now are you going to answer my question or am I going to 'ave to do something else with zhis knife?"

The Scout thought for a moment. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

So he was honest.

"I was curious." Avery responded curtly.

The emotions that swept across the Spy's face came swift and almost unreadable. The Scout could pick out a few. Confusion, anger, a quick hint of sadness, back to anger. Really the Scout could have stood there for days analysing the Spy's face.

It was truly mesmerizing.

"You were curious? Zhat was it? You risked your life simply because you were 'curious'?"

The Scout nodded stiffly.

"Well then." The Frenchman pressed the knife harder against Avery's neck. "I suppose I'm going to 'ave to prove that curiosity _did_ kill the cat."

Avery's mind went blank. He screwed his eyes shut, hoping by some miracle somebody could-

"Grégoire, put ze knife down."

Avery's eyes fluttered open, following the source of the sound. Francis stood at the entrance furthest away from them, pointing a gun directly at the BLU Spy.

"Francis. And zhere I thought you were dead. How silly of me." The BLU Spy said, his eyes not leaving the Scout.

The RED frowned. "I see you're still bitter. No matter, I am here to collect Avery so move away."

Anger, wasn't the expression that covered the man's face. No, he was furious.

"This piece of _vermin _decided to come into my domain, pull off my balaclava, and have zhe gall to say he did it because he was 'curious'. I'm sorry Francis, but 'e 'as to die." Before the BLU could do anything, Francis spoke up.

"You still owe me, Grégoire ."

The BLU growled under his breathe before he lifted the knife from the Scout's neck and rested it on his shoulder. "Fine, you win." He mumbled, before slicing across Avery's arm.

A surprised gasp left the Scout. The pain was intense; crystal clear. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor. The Spy had stepped backward, no longer supporting the Scout. He walked toward the balaclava that lay deserted on the floor. He knew he shouldn't say anything but he couldn't help it. "What de hell was dat for?"

Grégoire paused before he knelt down and picked up the balaclava. "To remind me." He responded.

Avery was about to retort, but he felt a hand rest on his head. He looked up to stare at Francis, even under his mask, Avery could see the man's melancholic eyes and forced smile. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it again. Knowing nothing he could say would comfort the man.

He stood, his hand gripping tightly around the wound on his arm. Francis looped a protective arm around his waist and led him from the room.

Before he rounded the corner, the Scout took one fleeting look back toward the Spy. His eyes fixing on the faded blue fabric held limply in the man's hands.

…

Chapter 2 is done! Hope you liked it, and as always if you spot any mistakes please tell me. After staring at this for so long I don't see the mistakes when there glaring me in the face. :)

*EDIT* - I did some major editing, mainly to change the story. Sorry for any inconvenience. :c xx


	3. Chapter 3

I want to apologize with how late this chapter is. But, thanks to all of your lovely reviews I kicked myself up the arse to finish this chapter and get started on the next. :)

...

Francis held Avery tightly as they headed back to base. They walked through the pipes as to not attract any more attention towards themselves; which was difficult considering the sight of a limping Spy supporting a nearly unconscious Scout was too much for most BLU's _not_ to kill.

Though tricky; they succeed. Granted they took more time than necessary with Francis stopping every so often to make sure Avery hadn't _died_, he was happy to say there was only one run-in; a Pyro who had the audacity to try and follow them.

He didn't want to kill him- well, that's what he told himself anyway- truthfully his aim was just appalling. The bullet collided with the Pyro's shin as opposed to the head which the Spy was aiming for.

The wounded BLU quickly limped off after that, leaving the Spy to blame his gun for the bad shot.

Even though the Spy knew the Pyro wouldn't bother them any time soon, it didn't sedate the growing pit that was developing in the man's stomach. He'd been under high pressure situations before, but never when he had the safety of another to think about.

Only when his feet touched the reassuring ground of the RED base and the end of battle siren resounded did Francis finally fall to the ground- with a half-dead Avery still attached to his side. The Frenchman's muscles ached in places he wasn't even aware _could _ache.

The Spy isn't exactly the fittest person of their team; sure they could out run a Heavy, but what good is that if you have a asthma attack five seconds later. They are masters of stealth and disguise, and nothing more. Ask them to invade a base filled to the brim with enemies whom are begging for a knife in the back, but don't expect them to agree if you ask them lift a piano up a flight of stairs.

You couldn't say that the Spy's pitiful amount of stamina was down to a bad diet and lack of exercise. OK, admittedly, Francis didn't jump at the opportunity to join Avery for a morning jog. But he didn't just sit around doing nothing. No, their physical downfall is from the white sticks nestled comfortably in their disguise kit.

Cigarettes; speaking of which...

Francis sat up slowly, his breathing still heavy. He opened up his case and lifted a cigarette lazily to his lips, he fumbled for a minute trying to find his lighter but soon enough he was sitting in a cloud of lung poisoning bliss. He idly stared at the smoke rising from the cigarette; the fog twisting in the air. Only when a small cough came from the 'thought-was-unconscious' Scout did Francis look away.

"Francis?"

The Frenchman eyed the Scout, a smile forming across his lips despite himself. "Ze one and only." He replied quietly.

A breathy laugh left Avery, his eyes closing. "Thank you."

"What for?" The Spy asked, leaning forward slightly.

But the Scout had already fallen asleep. Well, the Spy hoped he was sleeping. He quickly felt the boys pulse; faint, but still beating. The Spy heaved a sigh as he stood and stared at the unconscious blond and then at the long corridor before him.

"You 'ad better have lost weight in ze past two minutes, lapin."

…

Short I know, but it was more of an interlude chapter. Also I thought it better to do short chapters frequently than long chapters once in a while. Hope you like it and as always tell me if you spot any grammatical mistakes. Till next time. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, um... So it's midnight here in England and I've been spending the best part of my day writing this. Not that I'm complaining, I enjoyed writing this chapter mainly because I love writing the Medic... Anyhow, hope you enjoy!

Oh, I almost forgot, thank you all for you kind reviews. They really do spur me on to write quicker so I just wanted to say thanks. :)

*EDIT - I've edited this chapter slightly, just a few mistakes that i noticed recently. Also added a few things to certain lines. Enjoy! :3

...

The Medical ward. Not pretty by any stretch of the word, but functional nonetheless. The walls were bare and the beds lay next to each other along each side of the long rectangular room. The Medic sat at the end of the room; furthest away from the door, he preferred it that way. He said it's so he can over see everyone. But truthfully, its so that if anyone wanted to talk to him- they had to walk _all_ the way across the room.

Which pretty much sums up the Medic's sense of humour in a nutshell.

Of all of the beds only two were occupied. One with a Soldier and the other a Scout. The Medic sat at his desk, his pen scratching across the surface of a sheet of paper, the sound of which echoed slightly in the room. Even the quietest of noises seemed loud to the Medic. As the room was so large and bare, it meant every little thing you did seemed to sound as though it could wake the dead. Which was why the Medic winced when he heard foot steps.

Francis walked along the linoleum flooring toward where the Medic sat. The German looked up from his papers, noting the man's appearance; he wasn't wearing his pinstripe jacket and the sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up, from his lips hung a cigarette, which the Medic was about to scold him for, if it weren't for his eyes.

They looked bloodshot, the man had obviously not gone to sleep like the Medic ordered.

When the Spy came into the Medical bay clutching an unconscious Scout, the Medic rushed them to a bed, treated the wound and let him sleep. Francis of course stayed by the Scout's side until midnight, which was about the time the Medic yelled at him to go get some rest. Begrudgingly, the Frenchman stood, he was about to object, but closed his mouth and made his way out of the room. The Medic shook his head before returning to his desk.

The Medic looked back to his papers. "You know Herr Spy, being a Medic, vhen I tell people to sleep, they usually _do_ it."

Francis laughed. "And zhere I zhought you told me to stay _up_ all night." The Spy stopped in front of the Germans desk; shifting his weight from foot to foot. Usually a sign of nervousness was actually the Spy's legs finally giving up on him.

The Medic frowned. "Sit," he ordered. The Spy didn't object and sat in the chair to the left of the desk. "Mein Gott Francis, did you get _any_ sleep last night?"

Lowering his head the Frenchman asked. "Is he OK?"

The Medic's eye twitched, he had enough. "Yes! Of course he's OK! I told you zhat yesterday! It was a _cut_, not a rocket to ze face, nor a bullet in ze head, a _cut_, on ze _arm_ no less! Vhy in ze hell are you-" The Medic stopped himself when he saw the Frenchman's head hit his desk, the thud resounding in the room. "Francis?" He asked quietly.

The Medic got up and walked over to the man, looking closely at his face. The Frenchman's eyes were closed, the bags underneath them worse than usual for the man. He knew Francis already had problems sleeping, but this was just ridiculous. "I knew you vere exhausted you dummkopf..." Sighing, the German lifted the sleeping Frenchman and carried him to the vacant bed next to Avery.

He began walking back to his desk before the sound of bed sheets moving echoed around the room, he scowled. "Now you better not be-" He turned, about to unleash a good scolding only to see a very confused looking Scout staring at him.

An unintelligent 'huh?' left the boy's mouth.

"Sorry Herr Scout, I thought zhat-"

"-What the hell happened to Francis?" The Scout cut in, his eyes on the Spy next to him.

The Medic raised an eyebrow. "Vhat does it look like he's doing? He's sleeping und quiet rightly so-."

"Gus..." The Scout began.

The Medic raised his hands in defeat. "OK, OK..." He muttered. "I vasn't lying zhough, he is just sleeping. You see vhen you came into ze Medical room yesterday, he vas worried you vern't going to make it... So even vhen I healed you and put you to sleep; he didn't leave, vell, not until I told him to anyvay."

The Scout's expression turned thoughtful as he stared at the Spy. "He was really dat worried?" He seemed to ask the question more to himself than to the Medic.

Didn't stop the German from answering in any case.

"Yes he vas..." He paused. "I must admit, you had lost a lot of blood, but compared to what happened to Vaughn, your injury didn't warrant his level of vorry."

The Scout's gaze wandered to the Soldier's bed on the other side of the room. "What 'appened to him?"

"Rocket to ze legs... Luckily ze Megi-gun regrows limbs, but..." The Medic stopped himself, seeing as the Scout didn't seem to care. The Scout's eyes fell back onto the sleeping Frenchman next to him. "Anyvay, I vas able to heal your wound but it has left a scar-"

Avery lost intrest, instead, he eagerly lifted the sleeve of his shirt and examined the scar. He had gotten a few scars in his time, but nothing like the one now on his arm. He gently ran his finger across the skin, it was raising slightly, crisp and clean. No jagged edges like the BLU Spy's...

The Scout frowned at the thought '_do not think of that ass_' he told himself.

"-But zhen again if zhat is the only problem with it. Perhaps I should look into it... Vhat do you think Herr Scout?"

Avery blinked at the man for a good two minutes before the Medic sighed. "You vern't paying attention, were you?"

"Would ya be mad if I said no?"

"Nevermind." The Medic muttered. "It vasn't important, but seeing as your avake, Vuur wanted to talk with you."

The Pyro. The unspoken leader of the RED team. Sure Francis helped when it came to matters such as dealing with infiltration, but the Dutchman was the one who ultimately commanded the team.

There were lots of rumours when it came to the red haired man. Avery refused to believe most of them due to the fact the Pyro was the first person he became friends with and didn't want to believe most of the things his team-mates were saying. But one night changed that opinion; he had gone down to the kitchen to get some water and over heard a conversation...

"_-He went crazier zhan usual zhis time."_

"_You kiddin'? Dat was 'im being tame. You ain't seen him when he's gone ape shit. "_

"_On ze contray Jasper. I've-" _

He must have made a noise because what happened next was the Spy and Sniper asking who was there; Avery stepping nervously in the kitchen and another hushed conversation.

"_E's gonna kill us! You 'eard what he said-"_

"_Stay calm, I'll handle zhis..."_

Next, it was the Spy telling him to never tell anybody what they were talking about, the Sniper was pacing nervously in the background of the kitchen. Avery remembered asking _who_ they were talking about but Francis just frowned.

"_Look, I can't, believe me. He'd kill me."_

"_Who'd kill ya?" _

_He thought for a minute."...Nobody." Another pause "Avery please... Do not tell anybody what you heard us talking about, promise me."_

"_I promise."_

He kept that promise. No matter how much the curiosity within him burned, he never told a soul. He wanted to understand the conversation, but it felt like trying to do a puzzle when you only had a couple of the pieces.

"Any idea why he wants to see me?" Avery asked.

"No, but my guess it has something to do with how you got zhat cut." He pointed to the Scouts arm, at the scar.

Avery rolled down the short sleeve of his shirt, before turning his gaze to the Spy sleeping soundly next to him. Before he could even open his mouth, Gus spoke up.

"Don't vorry. Vhen he vakes up I'll tell him you vent to see Vuur, OK?"

With a stiff nod, Avery stood and walked, albeit slowly and clumsily, toward the door. He stopped at the door way and looked at the bed were the Spy slept. "Sleep well spook." He whispered.

…

Yup, I made the Pyro Dutch. :) And I hope you all like this chapter and like always, if you see any mistakes in grammar please tell me, I rushed this one slightly and I feel as though there is probably a HUGE mistake somewhere in there that I've missed... :)

*EDIT* - More editing! Nothing major, though. Just some grammatical things. c: xx


	5. Chapter 5

Guys, I am SO sorry about the huge delay. A lot of you have probably given up on this story but I'm hoping you haven't. I'm spending this weekend writing the next chapter, and I hope you'll enjoy this chapter until then. Also, thank you for all your kind reviews. :)

...

Normally, Avery enjoyed going for walks. He loved his morning jogs around base when it is only him and the hollow thud of footsteps. He adored spiriting down the empty hallways of the RED base imagining a storm of bullets followed in his wake. However, more often than not, Avery just strolled through base, not caring where he wound up.

Today however, was not one of those days.

Being asleep for who knows how long, didn't exactly aid the Scouts legs in their struggle to work.

After practically _dragging_ himself to the living room; Avery collapsed on the couch, his head burying into the small pillow in the corner. He could feel his eyes closing and realised the likelihood of falling asleep if left to his own devices.

Lucky for him, Vuur chose that moment to enter, and even luckier, he had a bowl of cereal in his hand.

He felt the couch dip at the Pyro's weight. Avery sat up, his eyes meeting the Pyro's before drifting to the cereal.

Vuur smiled and handed the bowl over to almost drooling Scout, who started devouring the bowl as soon as it changed hands. After a few rapid bites Avery looked up; the alert demeanour the man wore seemed strange to the Scout; he noted the redheads eyes drifting repeatedly to the door. Avery did a mental shrug before lifting the spoon to his lips. And dropping it again almost immediately.

"You cut ya hair." It wasn't a question; the Scout knew. The Pyro's normally shaggy hair was gone.

As if to remind himself, the man passed his hand over his head. "Yeah, I think it looks good but by the sound of your voice, I take it you don't agree."

Avery frowned into the bowl of cereal. "It looked better when it was longer."

A smiled graced the Dutch man's lips. "It's not about style. When you're a Pyro- long hair is impractical. More chance of it catching fire."

The Scout couldn't fault the man's logic. "Still, don't mean I like it," he mumbled.

"Oh Avery, what will I do with you..." The Pyro lifted his hand and tussled the Scouts hair. The gesture the Scout reserved for the Spy, almost felt _wrong_ when the Pyro did it. He couldn't place his finger on what was making the a pit grow in his stomach, but he knew he didn't like it.

"Avery?"

The Scout raised his eyes to the doorway, relief flooding over him. Francis stood, leant against the doorway. His eyes bloodshot and raw. He wore no jacket, revealing the ruffled and un-tucked shirt underneath, "I am not interrupting, am I?"

Vuur dropped his hand; a quick frown crossing his features before disappearing. "I thought you were out cold, Spy." He muttered.

Ignoring the man's tone, Francis chuckled,"what can I say? I am a light sleeper."

"Well..." He paused, glancing to the blond next to him, then back to the Spy,"It's good you're up." Vuur stood up. "I'll leave you two."

Francis side stepped and allowed the Dutchman to pass, before taking the man's spot on the couch. The Spy waited for a minute until he was sure they were alone. Leaning over to the Scout, he whispered into his ear, "what were zhe two of you taking about?"

Avery thought for a moment. "I asked 'im about 'is hair."

The Spy drew back, his eyebrows knitting together. "Really?"

"Well yeah... Why? What did ya think we were talkin' about?"

Francis leant into the couch, a small frown on his face. "'E did not ask you about zhe cut?" He asked, pointing roughly in the direction of the Scout's arm.

Shaking his head Avery spoke, "Nah, 'e didn't."

The Frenchman's body relaxed; he sighed in relief before resting his head on the back of the couch, "Good... Zhat means we have time." Before Avery could even open his mouth to ask what he meant Francis held a finger to his lips, "I need you to listen to me." He dropped his hand. "Can you do zhat?"

Avery nodded once.

"Good. Now listen," Francis paused, cupping Avery's face in his hands. "Zhis is important. When zhe Pyro asks you about ze cut on your arm. Do not tell him where you got it."

Avery pulled back. "What? Why?"

The Spy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Look do you trust me?" The Scout nodded again. "Zhen do not tell 'im. If 'e asks just say, I don't know... You ran into somezhing, or, a bullet skimmed your arm. Just, under no circumstances, tell him zhat zhe BLU Spy did it." He finished.

Avery pulled up his sleeve and rubbed the scar with his hand, all the while glaring at it. He'd had bullet wounds that didn't get as much attention as this scar... What made it so special?

A torrent of questions made their way to Avery's mouth, pausing and waiting to be said. Of course there were the obvious ones: Why can't I tell him? What will he do if he found out? And even more waited in line after them; question after question. He wanted to know why people weren't giving him the full story, but one look at the Spy in front of him and the questions faltered, retreated. Genuine concern filled the Frenchman's eyes, the dark circles surrounding them seeming worse than usual. The Spy's appearance alone made guilt bubble in the Scout's stomach. "Fine." He muttered. "I won't tell 'im."

A smile pulled at the corners of the Frenchman's lips. He lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the Scout; pulling him against his chest. The Scout didn't move, and closed his eyes. He felt himself drifting off, and judging my the loosening of the Spy's arms around him. He guessed the Frenchman was as well.

Neither moved, enveloped in each others warmth, each falling into their own dreamless sleep.

…

Well, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. And as per usual, if you see any mistakes, please point them out and I shall do my best to correct them. :)


	6. Chapter 6

Well, this is probably the quickest I have even written a chapter, ever. So I hope you like it!

...

The Scout's eyes fluttered open as the morning sun streamed in through the window; he buried his head, attempting to avoid the painfully bright light. He felt the rise and fall of somebody breathing beside him and, for a moment, he forgot what had happened the previous night.

He sat bolt up right, opening his eyes fully despite the protest they gave. As soon as the red balaclava and ruffled shirt came into to focus, Avery fell back into the man's arms. His entire body feeling tired despite the overload of sleep he'd had recently. Despite this, he couldn't get back to sleep. He mind was wide awake despite what his body said. He sighed and got up, rubbing his eyes. He stared at the half eaten bowl of cereal standing on the coffee table and took a mental note to clean it up later.

For now, he tried to get his body in working order. Walking around the room he attempted to get the blood flowing around his body, he stopped at the door. The thought crossing his mind to go for a morning jog- until he looked at his watch.

Avery's eyes widened; they were late for the morning meeting. Every Sunday, the teams planned their battle tactics for the week. As Sunday was the day off, Francis and Vuur had come to the agreement that the meetings should be at around eleven, so that everyone could get a lie-in if they wanted, and the rest of the day could be spent doing other things.

Francis usually woke up earlier than the rest- well, he never really _slept_, so being up early wasn't too taxing.

Sometimes, the teams got days off for other reasons and most took this advantage to sleep and train, but mostly sleep. Even on these days when there wasn't a meeting, the Spy woke up early, and walked to the kitchen. Waiting patiently for the Scout to wonder in, and for two of them to eat breakfast together.

Today though, as the clock hit the eleven thirty mark, Avery broke into action; running to the couch, and shaking the Spy awake. The Spy's eyes opened slightly, a frown on his features. "What?" He asked, his voice thick with sleep.

"No time to explain. We gotta go- now" He said, pulling at the man's arm.

With a sigh, Francis got up, letting the Scout pull him in the direction they needed to go. The Spy's limp was not helping when it came to the fact they were in a hurry. In spite of this, they made it to the debriefing room in less time than the Scout thought it would take.

Avery looked into the room through the glass window on the door. Vuur stood in front of the team, pointing at each member and telling them what their jobs for the week were. The Scout grabbed the handle and pushed the door open.

Immediately, all the team turned toward the door, towards the two of them. Avery mumbled apologizes as he entered and took his seat next to the Soldier. His eyes darted to the faces of all his team mates looking at him. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks; they must have all seen the Spy and him on the couch. He kept telling himself that they didn't '_do' _anything...

But his team didn't know that.

"Can we get on with zhe meeting already?" Francis asked, his gaze focused on the Pyro at the front of the room.

Vuur pursed his lips before continuing. "Well, if you two were here on time you'd know what you'd be doing by now and we could all get on with our-"

"Cut zhe crap and just tell us what we are doing, Pyro." A tired Francis was a cranky Francis. Though he was used to little to no sleep, when he did get more than a couple hours of sleep and was woken up, he got pissed _very _easily.

The Pyro smirked; a smug look which made the Spy want to vomit. "Now, now Spy no need to get snippy. You're on offence duty with Soldier." Vuur's smirk went as he looked toward the Scout. "Avery you're in the Intel room with Engineer for the week."

"What? You can't be serious?" The Scout asked, disbelief etched into his voice.

"Until your arm has fully healed, your not fighting on offence."

"But Gus healed my arm, See? It ain't bleeding or anythin'."

Vuur leant against the wall behind him. "True, but as the Medi-gun was built for the purpose to be used in battle; it heals quickly, but leaves the wound susceptible to reopening if not left to heal naturally." The Pyro paused. "So, you need to wait for it to heal fully, understand?"

The Scout folded his arms and nodded. He knew not to argue with the Pyro, he was only doing what was best for him. Still, being stuck in the Intel room all week was going to be boring as hell. Nobody gets through the Pyro and Demo-man, so the Intel room was always untouched after a battle.

Clapping his hands, the Pyro spoke."Well, were done for today. Everybody enjoy your day off, and remember the training room is always available for use." He walked to the doorway and looked back into the room. "Come on Eadan."

The Demoman stood, following the Pyro out of the room. The team waited for a moment before they themselves left one by one.

Avery got up from his seat once it was only him and Francis in the room. He wondered to the man by the doorway, letting his hand graze the others.

The two of them walked down the long hallway together, stopping at the staircase leading to the upper floors. "I am going to have nap." The Spy stated, before tussling the Scout hair and ascending up the stairs.

Alone in the hallway, Avery's thought about tomorrow, to the next week of sitting in the Intel room, he silently prayed that Vuur would allow him back onto the field by Wednesday instead of spreading all week in the stuffy room. He shook the thought from his head, the idea of sleep being more inviting; he followed the Spy's example, and ran up the stairs-

-the bowl of cereal still sitting in the living room.

…

Don't worry, our lovable, cranky BLU Spy will be returning in the next chapter. :) And as usual, If you spot any mistakes please let me know.


	7. Chapter 7

Yay for rushing!

Well, this chapter took awhile. Hopefully it will suffice in giving you some tasty back story. Enjoy!

...

Avery didn't like being on defence.

More specifically; he didn't like being on Intel defence.

The difference being; one, you're doing something, the other, you're not.

The RED Scout had nothing against being on defence. He had to do it a couple of times; patrolling the base and making sure nobody got through to the Intel room. It was fun, especially since Vuur kept him company most of the time, chatting mindlessly with him as everyone else fought.

It didn't feel like it was a war. Most of the time no BLU's came into the RED base. They defended mostly. Not focused on obtaining the Intel.

When Avery had taken their Intel in the past, the BLU's didn't even seem bothered. Sure they chased him, but then they'd give up, shrug it off and walk back to their base.

The little part in Avery's brain controlling his curiosity was going crazy.

He didn't ask about it. Well, he meant to. But Avery had the habit of losing his trail of thought when talking with his team-mates.

At the moment though, with the Engineer talking about Sentry function for about the 5th time in an hour. Avery's trail of thought managed to quadruple in size, drive through Avery's brain, and bring other thoughts along for the ride.

The Scout stared up at the ceiling. He laid across the desk, the Intel sitting on his stomach, his hands gentle gripping it. When he heard the Engineer finish a sentence, Avery would grunt in reply, nod, or just shrug. He wasn't paying attention, the man could be confessing his undying love for the blond, but a bored Scout was an indifferent Scout.

Sitting up, Avery placed the Intel on the desk. He held his head in his hands, when something the Texan said finally penetrated the Scout lacklustre brain.

"-A course, he weren't always like that. He was crazy, but Jesus, I never thought he'd do it..."

Avery's head shot up. "What was dat?"

Malcolm laughed. "Thought that would get ya attention..."

The Scout paused before sliding off the desk and walking over to the Texan, "what was dat?" He repeated, this time letting a good amount of malice drip from his voice.

"Afraid I can't say. Had you been listening though, ya might have learnt a thing or two." The man didn't even flinch at the Scouts proximity, turning back to attending his Sentry.

Avery scowled, he knew when he'd been beaten. Sighing, he slowly backed away. When he hit the desk, he slid to the floor. Hugging his knees, he let his head sit on them.

At least an hour passed of Malcolm talking, Avery sitting, then walking, then sitting again. When the Scout opened his mouth to repeat his question, he was cut off.

"Nice scar."

Avery looked down to his arm, his sleeve had rolled up revealing the slightly pink line. He grabbed the sleeve and pulled it down roughly. "What's it to you?"

"Greg did that, didn't he?"

Attempting not to let the overwhelming surge of emotions cross his face, the Scout grunted. "Who's that?"

"Don't be a tough guy. Believe me, it don't suit ya." Malcolm wandered over to where Avery sat, sitting down himself. "We were on the same team, me and him. I know he does 'that-," he pointed to the now covered scar. "-to people he ain't allowed to kill."

Avery felt a million questions bubble within him, but just did an unintelligent nod as opposed to letting the gibberish that was threatening to come out of his mouth spew out.

"I used to be a BLU, one of the best. Ya see, the way this whole 'war' thing works is based on skill. They separate us into different ranks, going from 10 to 1. However, when you get to 1, if you can prove yourself, you get put into the 'Elites', the toughest 'sons-a-bitchs' you'll ever meet." He paused to see if Avery was still listening, when he was satisfied that he was, he continued.

"I was put in their because I can put my Sentries in place people can't look at without a bullet going between their eyes. A course, I wasn't the only guy on the team who was good. All of the team where the best in their field. But so were the other team."

"That's when I first meet him. Greg tended to keep to himself, never seemed to hurt a fly. All of the team berated him for his approach to fighting. I didn't though, I knew my place and knew better than to piss off a guy who could kill me in a heart beat."

"I wasn't wrong either. The next day, he killed 3 RED's ten minutes into the battle, stole the Intel and strolled back to base." The Engineer laughed, "all the team were speechless. I just remember going to him after ward and telling him 'I'm glad I'm on your side'." A scowl passed his features. "And then _he_ had to fuck it all up."

Before Avery could ask the newly formed question sitting not so patiently on his lips; the Engineer stood suddenly. He held his hand to his ear, closing his eyes and focusing on something. "Wait here." He said to the Scout, before pulling his shotgun out and walking out of the room.

Every single reasonable sense the Scout had was telling him to follow the man. Make sure he didn't get hurt, but he couldn't. He was glued to the floor, the Engineers command ringing in his ears.

He listened, his ears staining, he thought he heard a mumble- a conversation, he thought it was his imagination paying up until he heard a yelp.

He was sure he heard it, he stood up. His legs, having gone asleep, were not helping with the brave look he was going for. He wobbled slowly to the hallway, lifting his bat from his back he waited a minute before ultimately rounding the corner.

A strange mix of relief and horror went though him and he rounded the corner. His relief came from seeing Grégoire.

His horror came from the body of a very dead Malcolm.

...

I know I'm a horrible person... Not only from the death, but also for the cliffhanger.

Hope you liked it, and, as always. If you spot any typo's please tell me. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Um, hey everyone. Sorry that this hasn't been updated since... 10-01-11? Really? Wow. I am SO sorry you guys. I haven't forgotten about this story, I was just mulling over what direction to take it in. If you haven't noticed, I have edited the past chapters and now the story's changed a bit. So here it is, the new chapter! C:

...

The Scout dropped his bat causing a loud clunk to resonate throughout the now silent room. Even the usual beeps of machines seemed to not make a sound. The Engineer's body lay unmoving; the Spy holding his wrist. After a second, he let it drop.

"E's dead."

The Spy stood abruptly, brushing off the invisible dust from his legs; he removed the knife from his side, and opened it. The Scout's eyebrows furrowed.

He stepped forward, grabbing the knife from the other man's hand. He could hear an exasperated sigh, but it didn't stop him from examining the knife.

"It ain't got no blood on it."

"Your observational skills overwhelm you."

The Scout looked up, "did ya kill him?"

The Spy waited for a while, letting his eyes wander the room. "No," he finally let out.

Just as the word left his lips, he felt the familiar cold edge of steel rest against his jugular.

Another sigh.

"I understand zhat it looks bad, but I promise you, 'e was dead when I got 'ere, which is why I need to examine his wound."

"Huh?"

"Oh for zhe love of-" the Spy cut himself off, opting instead to reach for the knife now held limply in the Scout's hand. He turned back to the body before dropping to his knees. He reached over, his hands pausing over the wound. He let out another sigh, "I'm sorry Malcolm." After that quiet apology, he let his hand touch the flesh.

He paused again before using the knife to cut into the bloodied fabric around the wound.

The Scout watched as bits of fabric began to gather in small piles around the Engineers body. With each piece, more of the man's back began to appear. Only when the Spy leant back, revealing the wound, did the Scout's eyes wander it. It was definitely caused by a knife. A butterfly knife to be precise.

His eyes fell on the one being held in the BLU Spy's hand. It had no blood on it- but he could have cleaned it before he put it away.

The Scout lifted the scatter gun from his back. He held it in his hands, pointing it directly at the Spy. "Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, cause from what I can see. It looks like you're the one who did dis." The Scouts voice broke, but he didn't care. He was beyond caring, this man killed-

"Vuur wants me dead more than anyzhing."

The Scout frowned, _what does that have to do with_-

"He wants me dead so much, he is willing to kill his own team-mates to get it done."

"What do ya mean?"

For a moment, the Spy seemed deep in thought. He placed his hand on Malcolm's shoulder. "We were good friends you know, me and Malcolm." His hand glided to the man's sleeve and delicately lifted it up, revealing a crisp clean line on the man's shoulder. "Zhat's why, even when we were put on different teams, I promised I wouldn't kill him."

The Scout lowered his gun, staring at the Engineers shoulder. "Okay, I'll bite. What does Vuur have to do with Malcolm?"

The Spy took a deep breath. "The point of this whole fiasco was to get you to see me as ruthless killer. Somebody that doesn't deserve to live. He trying to make you kill me because he can't."

The Scout mulled over the words, "how come he can't?"

This time, the Spy smiled, "because I'm the best Spy this war has ever seen."

"Not good enough to avoid your mask being ripped off." The Scout smirked as he spoke.

It was now the Spy's turn to frown. "No, I suppose you're right, but zhe point still remains. Vuur can't lay a hand on me, he isn't as good as 'e 'as people believe and 'e definitely doesn't have what it takes to kill me."

"But I can? Look, I have only been here a while- hell, I haven't even killed anyone yet. Why does he think I can kill you, when _he_ can't?"

More silence. The Scout waited for the Spy to speak. He was slowly getting used to the way the man's mind worked. Slow and Steady. Nothing like Avery's at all.

"No, but you have potential, which is more than can be said about most Scouts. 'E knows you can do it; 'e just needs to wind you up, and point you in the right direction."

"Wha-"

"E's trying to make you hate me, kill me, and zhe way he's going to do that is to kill somebody close to you and pin it on me."

The Scout stood staring at the Spy, his mouth open slightly.

"Malcolm was only zhe first step. A distraction, done to make you stay and guard the Intel whilst he took down the real target."

He couldn't be suggesting-

"'E knows you have zhe potential to kill me. You just didn't have zhe motivation. I have not done anyzhing to warrant you to swear revenge on me, but that can easily change; with a knife, and a well placed stab in zhe back."

Avery's blood went cold. Vuur wouldn't-

"Tell me, who do you care about more then anyzhing on your team?"

He wouldn't-

"Who would Vuur need to kill to get you to murder me."

Avery was running before he knew it.

…

Again, I realise no chapter could be good enough to warrant... That amount of time to write it. I apologize. Hopefully you won't all murder me for leaving you on a cliffhanger like that for a year. Again. I'm so sorry. :c xx


	9. Chapter 9

Hello all! Time for another chapter, and I hope you like it! :)

...

Avery ran as fast as his legs could take him. Every thud as his feet hit the floor could barely be heard over his rapid breathing. He was hitting his top speed and dodged obstacles with expert ease. He left enemies dazed as he shot past them. He soon hit the stair case, opting to jump down each flight instead of running. He slowed down when he got to the water, but he didn't care. His whole body ached, but he didn't care. He had to make sure that-

He rounded the corner and stopped abruptly, narrowly avoiding falling flat on his face. The RED Spy and Pyro were sitting casually in the water, as if they were just two friends casually talking. Avery panted heavily, trying in vain to regain his composure. Francis merely smiled at him, "'ello, lapin. Fancy seeing you here."

Vuur on the other hand looked more surprised than his other team-mate, but quickly a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Why are you so out of breath? Don't tell me you ran all the way here."

Avery let his breath even out before he even attempted to speak, he didn't need what he was about to say be punctuated by ragged breathing. "Malcolm's dead."

His eyes quickly studied the two men before him. Francis looked genuinely shocked, whilst Vuur's face morphed indecisively. It tried to mimic the same look of shock the Spy wore, but remained largely blank, "what a shame."

"A shame? Dis guy was our _team-mate_ an' all you can say is 'what a shame?'" Avery practically spat the words at the Pyro.

The man in question stared at the Scout, almost like a predator examining his prey, his eyes narrowed and his voice was quiet, "why aren't you defending the Intel?"

The question threw the Scout , but he didn't let it show. He just glared at the man, "I thought tellin' you about the death of a team-mate mattered more den some stupid Intel." It was the truth, but not the whole truth. In all honesty, if Grégoire hadn't turned up, Avery doubted he would have gone to tell anyone. He would have examined the wound, sure, he would have figured it out to be a knife wound, of course, but ultimately- he would have stayed in the room. Defending the Intelligence. He wouldn't have gone out to tell anyone.

He could only guess that the Pyro had the same thought as him; assuming Avery would stay unless something else made him leave. The Scout could almost see the Pyro's mind work as he processed the information. His faced changed. Ever so slightly. His eye lid twitched and the corners of his mouth turned down just a tad. Any normal person would just assume these were minor facial ticks, but Avery could tell this was the Pyro's façade breaking. He was trying desperately to cover his outrage. Avery could feel the adrenaline pumping around his body, he was baiting the bear, and he felt terrified. His exterior was cool and collected but his heart was racing a million miles a minute.

Francis on the other hand laughed. It was a light hearted chuckled, and it echoed slightly in the pipes. Vuur glared daggers at him, whilst Avery watched curiously. Which was when something hit him, "Hey, Francis. I thought you were on offence with Soldier." Ordinarily, this wouldn't be something the Scout would comment on, but he felt the need to test the BLU Spy's theory. Maybe Vuur wasn't planning on killing Francis... Maybe, it really was the BLU Spy who killed Malcolm.

The Spy's smile held as he began to speak, "well it was zhe most curious zhing. Me and Soldier were on zhe bridge, fighting against zhe enemy Soldier and Demo-man, and rocket managed to hit him, causing his legs to fly right off. I have to say, I zhought it was a little strange for zhe Pyro to put zhe Soldier on offence when his legs were still so weak, but I didn't put too much thought into it-" The Scout eyed the Pyro wearily, he wasn't allowed to fight offence because he had a cut on his arm, but Vaughn was allowed to when he had fresh new legs, something was definitely up, "-again, completely unpredictably. Vuur and Eadan showed up behind me and told me to come with zhem to get zhe Intel. When we reached zhe pipes Vuur told Eadan to get zhe Intel whilst me and him stayed here. We were 'ere about a minute before you showed up." The Spy was still smiling, but it looked a bit more deflated than before. "So coincidental, don't you zhink?"

If the Pyro wasn't angry before, he was positively furious now. Of course you wouldn't be able to tell with how hard he tries to hide it. But the twitch was back, and he wasn't even attempting to hide his frown any more. "Are you saying you'd have preferred to be left on the bridge dealing with enemy fire?"

"No," the Spy paused before he continued, "of course not. I'm just commenting on how _well _this all panned out."

The two men stared at each other. Both seemingly unaware of the Scouts presence. His eyes drifted between the two of them, examining the silent conversation the two were having. The Spy's mock happiness was well and truly gone and in its place a distant, wistful look was on his features. The Pyro on the other hand, was harder for the Scout to explain. It was like a demonic aura enveloped the man, resting on his shoulders to make him slouch and pulling on his mouth to make him frown, Avery couldn't understand it, but he knew one thing for sure. The man looked terrifying.

The Scout felt the need to speak, he was growing increasingly nervous as the silence wore on. He opened his mouth but quickly shut it again, trying to think of something- anything to say. His mouth opened again when he saw a figure approaching them slowly, and this time he blurted out-

"Eadan!" The two weren't exactly on a first name basis, but by God was the Scout happy to see him.

The Demoman nodded once toward Avery, before handing the Intel to the sitting Pyro. The red head's eyes filled with wonderment as though he was a child opening presents on Christmas morning. He got up as the end of battle siren resounded and reached in his back pocket for his gas mask, pulling it quickly onto his head.

The Scout stared at the two black lenses, behind which the Pyro's eyes were. Vuur mumbled something about returning to base, and the Demoman nodded. Soon the two of them were gone. Leaving the Scout and Spy alone.

Francis shuffled in the same direction his team-mates took before turning back to Avery. " Aren't you coming?"

The Scout nodded distantly before he edged towards where the Pyro just sat. "I think you better come see dis." The RED Spy raised an eyebrow before moving close to the Scout.

In the water lay a BLU butterfly knife. Similar to the one Grégoire had, with only one distinction.

This one had blood on it.

…

Hopefully you all liked this chapter, and as always, if you spot any mistakes, message me and I shall correct them! :)


	10. Chapter 10

Hey everybody, sorry for the lack of updating. It took so long because at first this, and the next chapter were one big chapter, but because that was taking too long to edit I decided to split them up. So whilst I work on chapter 11, here's chapter 10! Enjoy!

...

Grégoire stilled as he stepped into the BLU base. The battle had ended yet he still felt on edge, as though he was being watched. He knew he wasn't, but knowing didn't stem the anxiousness he felt. Just to be sure, he waited; his eyes darting over every object around him to see if anything was off. When he was sure he was alone, he let his shoulders sag and sighed in relief, before quickly composing himself again. He told himself he had made it another day.

But there was always tomorrow.

With that thought in mind, he made his way towards the main room. As usual, it was a buzz of activity. All of the team were smiling and joking, whilst Grégoire stood watching them. He felt like he was intruding. He wasn't the most social of people and never spent any real amount of time with his team, despite their best attempts to involve the Frenchman. He was about to walk past, perhaps even cloak to do it, but he took too long to make that decision, and soon his presence was finally detected.

"Greg!" The Pyro shouted whilst getting up, he shuffled his way passed the poker game taking place on the coffee table, and soon ended up in front of the Spy, smiling warmly.

"Hello Eda." The Spy said softly as he lifted the Intel from his back. The Pyro gasped.

His eyes widened and he stepped back. "You... You took the Intel?"

At this, the entire team stopped what they were doing to stare at the two men. The Spy knew about the BLU teams aversion to getting the Intel. He had done it a few times before, but stopped when he saw how distressed it made them all. The next day, they would leave their Intel room unguarded so that the RED team could get the Intel easily, with no hassle.

He knew why they did it. The RED Pyro, otherwise know as 'Psyco', thanks to Eda repeatedly referring to him as one. The Spy knew about the teams fear of the man, so he kept it quiet that that said man wants him dead. Well, he tried to keep it quiet. Foolishly, he happened to tell one person, and said person was standing in front of him with the look of a concern on his face.

The Spy was growing increasingly annoyed, they had no right to be scared, none of them, but before Grégoire could voice his outrage Eda's hand had made its way onto his shoulder. Almost instantly the Spy calmed.

The Pyro slid his hand down the Spy's arm until it was gently gripping the sleeve of his suit. The Spy didn't object to being led out the room, nor did he mind the the silence between him and Eda.

The two made their way down the corridor towards the kitchen. When they finally reached their destination, the Pyro turned and reached for the suitcase in the Spy's hand. He then walked to the table, and placed it down. The Spy raised an eyebrow to the mountain of dishes by the sink and the white liquid on the floor that he prayed to God was milk. He was used to the messiness his team usually creates, but this was too much even for his tolorence. He opened his mouth to comment about it, but stopped himself when he saw the Pyro turn to face him.

The look in his eyes wasn't his normal self. This was the Eda that nobody else saw; whose eyes were normally hidden behind thick, black lenses. "I know I should be praising you right now, I know that getting the Intel should be a good thing, but it is not, and you know _damn_ well why." The Pyro moved closer, his face mere inches from the Spy's. "You know that the Psyco wants you dead, so I just can't understand why you keep doing this! I thought we talked about this Greg! We talked about how you weren't going to take it anymore, and then you go and do it! I just don't get it, do you want him to get angry? Tell me so I can understand!" The anger in the Pyro's voice was slowly being replaced with desperation untill stoped and sighed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be getting angry, but you have to look at this situation through my eyes. I don't want to wake up and find the base on fire and everybody dead just because you-" Grégoire's fist connected with the Pyro's jaw before he could say another word. It was only when Eda fell to the floor with a loud thump, that he even realised what he had just done. He just punched his team mate. Grégoire stared at his fist as though it belonged to somebody else, and when he looked down towards the Pyro, watery eyes looked back. Blood and tears trickled down the Pyro's face and Grégoire just stared. He made no move to help. Instead he started to step back, staring at the Pyro as he did. Only when he reached the door way did he break eye contact and sprint down the hallway. His heart felt as though it was in his throat. He didn't dare look behind to see if the Pyro followed.

When he reached his room he slammed the door and sat with his back against it. He closed his eyes and waited for his breathing to even out. His heart felt like a jack hammer inside his chest and he could feel his hands shaking. After a few minutes he opened his eyes again, only to have the sudden realisation of what had just happened come flooding back to him. He should have said sorry, he should have helped Eda up instead of leaving him, he should have told him what he wanted to know, but he didn't.

Grégoire tried to get up, only for his legs to protest. He felt horrible, and told himself that he could fix it all tomorrow. He could fix everything tomorrow. He just needed some sleep.

And with that he fell onto the bed.

…

Well that was short... Don't worry! The next chapter is twice the size of this one and should be finished soon! And, as always, if you spot any mistakes, message me and I shall correct them. Until next time! :)


	11. Chapter 11

Hey everyone, the new chapter is up, but if I could just take a moment of your time.

Tomorrow I'm going to Holland for a week, and I won't be able to write any of the next chapter till I get back. I also won't be able to fix typo's either, so if you do spot any, still message me but keep in mind they may not get fixed unless I can do it before I leave.

Okay, that's all I needed to say. Enjoy chapter 11 guys! :)

…

He had managed to get 46 minutes of sleep.

There was a faint knocking coming from the door, and in an instant, the Spy sat bolt upright, a knife in one hand. He had conditioned himself to wake at even the faintest noise, and in doing so, made it impossible for him to sleep in sessions longer than half an hour. In his hazy state, he looked towards the clock and smiled.

He tried to get up, to move, but none of his body seemed to cooperate with him, opting to stay limp. He let out a breath, hoping it would make what he said next sound more confident than he actually felt, "come in." It was barely a whisper, and he scolded himself mentally. Whilst preparing himself to say it loader, the door opened.

It was still early afternoon, and as the door opened, light flooded the room. The Spy winced and nearly screamed when a Pyro silhouette filled the door way. He could of sworn his heart beat stop.

The Pyro made no attempt to move, and stood in the doorway, as though he was waiting. The Spy's eyes soon adjusted to the light level, and soon realised who was in front of him. _Eda- _He almost said, but something stopped him.

He lowered his knife. There was always the possibly that this was the RED Pyro in disguise. He had gotten a hold of a butterfly knife, so there was every chance that he had gotten hold of a disguise kit too.

Then something hit him. The Pyro's legs. He was supporting himself rather favourable on his left leg. The Spy knew Eda had been shot in the shin a few days ago, but he never saw a change in the way he stood because of it. He only knew one person who stood like that.

"Francis?"

The Pyro made a noise that sounded almost like a growl before red smoke enveloped him. A second later, the RED Spy stood, his arms crossed. "Really? 'Ow could you tell? I did not zhink it was zhat obvious." Despite his annoyance, he was smiling.

Grégoire smiled back. Trying not to let the overwhelming relief he felt show. "Zhey don't call me zhe best for nozhing."

The RED raised his eyebrows, "oh?" He stepped forward and shut the door, "and I suppose zhe 'best' Spy keeps forgetting he got out witted by a Scout."

The smile vanished. "I wasn't expecting it! I 'ad my back turned so 'e could get zhe Intel! 'Ow was I supposed-" He stopped when he realised his argument was falling on death ears. "I doubt zhat you came 'ere just to make fun of me, what is zhe matter?"

Francis seemed to be having an internal debate as to what to say next. "You are willing to listen?"

The BLU's expression softened, "of course."

The RED took this as his invitation to sit next to his counterpart, there was no space between them, not that either of them minded. "You are not still mad?"

The Spy frowned. "I wasn't angry at you. I was angry at that dim wit you've seem to become attached to." Francis smiled at this.

"I see. I thought you were still mad about-" The BLU _raised a finger_and placed it against the others _lips._

"I am,

but we are still friends, no matter how idiotic your decision was."

The RED seemed happy with that reply and and fell on top of BLU. Grégoire didn't even flinch at the contact and simply rested his hand on the man's head and stroked the fabric of the balaclava. The RED made a purring sound in response, and the BLU laughed. "So, what is zhe reason behind this visit?"

"It's zhe Pyro."

The BLU stopped stroking. He didn't need to ask, of course it would be him.

"'E called a meeting after today's battle. Avery wasn't allowed in due to zhe Pyro saying 'e was in 'too much shock'. Avery, bless him, tried to object but I zhink it is finally dawning on 'im that zhe Pyro isn't somebody you should argue with." The BLU had to scoff at that. "Anyway, zhe entire meeting 'e talked about how it was our fault you escaped with the Intel. Everyone else said it was Avery's fault but-"

"Did 'e mention Malcolm?"

Francis eyes glazed over as he seemed to replay the conversation in his head. "Not zhat I recall."

That was Francis talk for, 'nobody gave two shits'. "Your team is awful."

He laughed. "You are only getting zhat now? Anyway, zhey aren't all bad. Jasper and Gus are good people. Zhey are just scared."

"What have zhey got to be scared of?"

"Zhink of it zhis way. If your team is scared from being across zhe field from him, imagine how our team feels being in the same _building_ as him."

The BLU thought for a second. "Touché." Francis didn't respond, opting instead to pull the blanket over himself and nuzzle further into the BLU lap. "Hey, we are not done yet." Making a whining sound Francis turned over to face the other. "What happened after zhe meeting?"

Francis frowned before his eyes widened in realisation. "Oh! Yes. Zhat is what I needed to tell you. Avery's coming to see you tomorrow."

"Can I at least ask why?"

The RED seemed annoyed by this question, perhaps he expected Grégoire to just blindly agree to what ever idea he'd come up with. "After zhe meeting, I went into my room to find Avery sitting there..."

_Francis paused by the entrance of his room, his hand barely touching the door handle. He heard a faint noise coming from within and decided it must be the only person not included in their meeting. _

"_Avery?" He said as he entered the room. He noted the blond was laying on his bed, face first into a pillow. He heard him mumbling about something as if the pillow and him were having an in-depth conversation. He moved closer and repeated what he had said, "Avery?"_

_This time the Scout shot up, obviously unaware of the Spy ever entering the room. Francis tried not to let the overwhelming feeling of pride take over his calm demeanour. "What's wrong?"_

_The Scout sat up, drawing his legs up and hugging them. "I know it was Vuur who killed Malcolm. We both saw da knife, it 'ad to be 'im."_

_Francis nodded once before he sat down next to him, "I knew you would find out eventually. I zhink zhe Pyro is an idiot to zhink he could ever manipulate you, and I was an idiot for underestimating his ability. I had no idea he knew the meaning behind zhe scar, " he briefly paused,"I thought he would ask you about it, but he didn't need to. He already knew." _

_If Avery was paying attention, he wasn't showing it. His eyes were fixed firmly on the floor. "You remember last Sundays meeting?" It was rhetorical, and the Spy doubted the Scout would even answer. "Afterwards, Malcolm came to my room. He wanted to speak with me." This permeated the Scouts daze, and he raised his head from his knees. "It turns out, before you got your scar, zhe Pyro had asked Malcolm to kill Grégoire, but Malcolm had said no. He zhen went on to say how he spotted your scar in the meeting and knew the Pyro would try to make you do zhe same."_

"_I zhen told him about the conversation you and the Pyro had after you left the Medical ward. I said how I thought it was strange the Pyro hadn't asked about the scar. To which Malcolm said he already knew the meaning of it." Francis stopped, waiting for Avery to add anything, when he didn't he went on. "Malcolm said he was going to die, he knew the Pyro was up to something putting you down in the Intel room when you only had a cut. He also suspected foul play when I was paired up with Vaughn. He told me to keep an eye out for anything suspicious when I was on the bridge-"_

"_Was dere anything suspcious?" His voice was hopeful._

_He went though his mental film reel. "Nozhing that I could see. I think it was just a matter of waiting for zhe inevitable to happen... You know how Vaughn is. He doesn't zhink he's done a good job unless his legs get blown up." _

_The corners of the Scouts mouth turned upwards for just a second before reverting back to their downwards position. "Greg said how Vuur killed Malcolm to keep me defending the Intel, so Vuur could kill-" Avery didn't finish his sentence opting to bury his head back into his knees._

_The RED Spy's nodded once in agreement. "Malcolm said something similar. He told me zhat zhe Pyro wasn't an idiot, and that it was more likely that instead of asking you to kill Grégoire, he would manipulate you to do it instead." The Spy wrapped his arms around the Scout. "But even if he 'ad killed me, I know you wouldn't have fallen for it. You see there is one zhing that Vuur seems to keep forgetting about you."_

_The Scout sniffed. "What's dat?" _

"_You are not like any normal Scout. In fact, I would say you have the intellect of a Spy."_

_The Scout lifted his head properly, allowing Francis to finally see his face. His eyes were red and his checks were flushed pink."You really think that?"_

"_Of course." The Spy chuckled. "And because of zhat, it is up to me, you and Grégoire to take down zhe Pyro. Because only a Spy can out wit a Pyro."_

_A smile was Avery's response, but something was still seemed to be bugging him. "Listen, If we really are gonna take down Vuur, I need to know the whole story..."_

"And zhat is where you come in!"

Grégoire looked dazed and almost overwhelmed with the torrent of information Francis had just unleashed on him. He was used to Francis being able to recollect anything he heard or saw, which meant he never so much as gave you the 'jist' but every thing else. "So Avery is coming to see me tomorrow." The RED nodded. "And I have to tell him about zhe Pyro." The RED nodded. "And you are not doing it because?"

"I don't want to." He dead panned.

Well, he couldn't deny the RED Spy's bluntness. "What makes you think I want to."

Francis shrugged his shoulders, "I dunno..." Grégoire was unimpressed by his counterparts childlike response, but didn't object to it. He knew the real reason he didn't want to do it. It was the same reason he didn't want to.

"Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me." Francis giggled happily and wrapped his arms around the others waist, saying 'thank you's' all the while. Even Grégoire had to smile. "Oh, one more thing before I forget." Francis hummed in responce. "Give Avery your cloaking device."

"Why?"

"I took zhe Intel today, so I have a feeling zhe Pyro will come and take ours tomorrow, and the last thing we need is him knowing me, you and dim wit are planning his demise."

The Spy grinned. "Stop calling him zhat."

A 'fine' was all the BLU said, before he tugged at a blonde piece of hair poking out from under the others balaclava. "I take it you're staying here tonight?"

"If you don't mind." The Spy said, pulling the balaclava off of his head.

Of course he didn't mind. "I suppose you can." Grégoire muttered as he pulled off his own balaclava. Ordinarily he would keep it on, even when he slept, but when he was with Francis he didn't feel the need to hide his face.

The two moved to get more comfortable on the bed. It was only a single so the two were closer then some people would consider 'comfortable', but neither cared.

The closeness helped them sleep.

…

Tada! This chapter is done!


End file.
